End This, Or I Will
by ThroughTheDarkComesALight
Summary: Post- Reichnbech John just wants this to end. Warning mentions of suicide and attempted suicide. John!Lockish. If you squint a little. May be a multi chap, or have a sequel. I own nothing but this poor attempt at a fic.


Making my way downtown

Walking fast

Faces pass

And I'm home bound

John walked briskly, heading toward the graveyard that was his friends final resting place. He had decided to visit his best friend one last time before he finished what had started all those months ago. He felt like the dying man who raced to the piano in that silly story that Sherlock was so fond of. The one that couldn't bear the unfinished melody.

Staring blankly ahead

Just making my way

Making a way

Through the crowd

All the way to the graveyard part of him hoped he would be stopped. But he wasn't. No one thought it was strange to see him headed toward the place where he'd spent so much time over the recent months. Sherlock would've noticed the subtle differences. He'd have seen the way his steps had an odd kind of finality to them. Sherlock always noticed the little things with John. He saw everything John tried to hide from him.

John finally entered the graveyard and wound his way through the tombstones to Sherlock's headstone. As he knelt down he mused on how the beautiful sunny day contrasted sharply with John's thoughts and intentions.

I need you

I still miss you

And now I wonder

For a while John sat there silently with his face betraying none of his thoughts. In a sudden, rage fueled explosion of motion he punched the unforgiving polished granite that made up the headstone. The impact was forceful enough to break his hand, a few fingers and possibly a knuckle or two. As he cradled hos broken hand he started to speak. "It's been a year Sherlock. I need you, I miss you. I can't do this without you anymore. If you can hear me, please end this. Let this be a cruel game if you must, but end it. Or I will Sherlock. I swear."

John didn't expect a response, so was unsurprised when none came. Nodding with a kind of finality he rose. "This is goodbye for now then, I suppose. You're dead. You're really dead. Right." With that John turned and walked away, all the way out of the cemetery without once pausing or looking back.

He made his way, carefully cradling his broken hand, toward St. Bart's. He entered the building and went straight toward the elevators. John punched the button for the top floor, which he knew held the access door to the roof. He climbed to the roof, and stopped. For a good five minutes he just stood there.

If I could fall into the sky

Do you think time would pass us by?

John steeled himself and approached the last place Sherlock had stood. He knew he was taking the coward's way out, when the whole reason that Sherlock died was so that John could live. But without his detective, John didn't feel as though he had a reason to go on. He had reverted to the shell of a man he had been before Sherlock strolled into his life.

He knew that if Sherlock was alive, that he wouldn't be far. If he was, then he would be forced to either show himself or let John die. John didn't care which way it turned out really. If he was alive, then that was fantastic, if he wasn't then this half-life John was living would be over. He would get to see his detective again either way.

John knew he had to end this melody one way or another. If the melody had a deep and haunted ending then so be it. He couldn't be arsed to care either way.

John dried the tears he hadn't noticed flowing until now, and readied himself. He knew if he didn't do this now, he wouldn't get another chance. He said a silent prayer to anyone who was listening, and an apology to those he was about to leave behind.

He gathered his courage, and stepped up on the ledge, stood where Sherlock took his last breath. He inhaled what would be his last breath, and then all there was, was the fall. There was only the rush of the wind, and a thump.

And then there was the shooting pain in his arm where he had been jerked backwards off the ledge and the throbbing in his head where he had hit it on the roof when he landed. There was the feeling of the tall, angular detective that was half laying on him. There was the feel of dark curls that smelled vaguely like strawberries. And when he opened his eyes, there were only the piercing blue eyes of a very worried and relieved consulting detective.

Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles

If I could just hold you

Tonight

**A/N: Sorry I've been gone for a bit. Life was a bit much for a while. But I'm back now with my longest fic yet. I'll try and write and post more often, but I am in the end of my senior year, so I am busy prepping for college. I love yall, read and review. **

**A/N2: I am also working on a destiel fic currently. I've just moved onto new fandoms guys. I'm sorry if you aren't a part of them. I may still pop out a few HP fics now and again, but they aren't my main fandom anymore. It's the end of an era, but the start of an age. **


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